A Man Chooses
by Dentures
Summary: Jack is a father now, and he begins to understand what it means to have choice. And what it means to put what you love above all else.


**A oneshot, featuring Jack Ryan and his life as a father. And the choices he makes, as a man.**

**I do not own BioShock, or any of it's characters. I'm just a huge fan.**

A life of peace and domestication suited Jack surprisingly well.

When he'd rescued the young girls of Rapture, and brought them from the dark depths of the ocean into the blinding light of the sun, he'd experienced more than a few moments of paralyzing fear, and self doubt. Every memory he thought he had of peace, joy, and family was a fabrication. Dreamed up by Frank Fontaine. His only real memories were a blood soaked nightmare, filled with the darkest parts of the human mind, and his one morally questionable actions.

If his only pure thoughts were the products of the meddling of the likes of Frank Fontaine, then how could he rely on them? He'd more than once considered finding a suitable home for the girls, and leaving them to grow up rich and fulfilling lives, without his blood soaked hands to be allowed to dirty them.

Then, they would look at him every time they discovered some new delight, like trees, or animals in the forest. Or even roads. They would look at him with wonder and delight. And trust. Trust that this new world could be their home, and trust in him to guide them through it. And he always knew then that he could never abandon them.

Now, years later, he knew he'd made the right choice. After the painful memories in Rapture, Jack had chosen to take the girls to a place out in the sun. A place filled with natural beauty, to contrast the dark and made made construction of Rapture.

The American SouthWest was ideal.

"Daddy?"

Jack turned and looked back at the girls, whose ages now varied between 11 and 16, as they walked to their school building in the morning. The older girls and the younger girls went to different buildings, but the area being small and out of the way, the buildings were relatively small, and near to each other. Jack woke up early, every single day, to prepare breakfast and a bag lunch for his daughters when they woke up. They would all eat together, and then he walked with them to school, hugging each individually.

Susie Ryan, formerly known as Susie Johnson, was looking at him with concern filled eyes. Today was the first day of the new school year, and Susie, having turned 15 in the summer, she was going to start attending the older kids school.

Jack responded as the group walked, the girls all chatting with one another.

"Yes, sweetie?" He replied, his voice gentle and easing.

He hadn't known what kindness he could feel in his heart until he became a father.

Ordinarily, a child of 15 would be somewhat rebellious, trying to be independent of their parent. But Susie was still, in many ways, a child in fear of the outside world, and had no qualms about asking her father for advice.

"Daddy, what if I don't know which classroom I'm supposed to be in? What if I end up embarrassing myself on the first day?" She looked at him with the same eyes, filled with fear and trust, as he had seen when he lifted her from the bathysphere, and into the light those few years ago.

He reached a powerful hand back, a hand that once had the sole purpose of destruction, but now rubbed a young girls head softly and comfortingly. He smiled at her, offering her his confidence in her.

"Oh, don't worry, sweetie. The teachers know it's the first day, and they'll make sure to explain. Besides, you can always ask your big sisters."

Adelaide and Masha had already completed their first year at the older kids school building, and were the oldest of Jack's daughters.

Susie nodded, still worried, but comforted by her father's soft words, and strong presence. Masha had noticed the conversation between her father and sister, and had moved up from the back of the group to intwine her hand in Susie's. Susie looked gratefully at her older sister for her comfort, and Jack gave her an appreciative look. Unlike Susie, Masha had grown up rather fast, and was already Jack's helpful assistant, participating in the arduous task of coordinating and entire group of teen and pre-teen girls. They walked the rest of the distance to the school buildings, with Jack listening to the conversations of his daughters in comfortable silence.

* * *

"Leta, those are new stockings. How have you already torn them?"

Jack asked with no anger, but the amused weariness that comes with being a parent.

Leta, instead of answering, opted to shout, "Love you Dad, see you after school!", before bolting for the doors. Jack sighed, then returned to giving hugs and kisses to his daughters as they filed past him to go into the school yard to play before class began. The sight of each of Jack's daughters lining up to receive a hug, a kiss, and a word of encouragement from their fathers every day before school was local legend, and a source of endless teasing from the other men in the construction company Jack worked at. He was never embarrassed, though.

He reached Masha, who stood at the end of the line to ensure that each girl entered into the school, instead of playing hooky. She knew all the tricks for wriggling out of going to school, as she used to try her best to avoid her education at all costs. Now, however, she was studying hard. She planned on getting a law degree, and working hard to be successful. At least, that's what she said. In truth, she planned to use her money to help her father provide for the other girls. He worked on commission, and he broke his genetically enhanced back everyday to care for his daughters. She aimed to be wealthy enough to take care of HIM someday.

When she reached her father, she gave him a soft smile as he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. She wished him well, and he did the same, reminding her to look out for her sisters. Jack watched them go, smiling, and waving whenever one of the girls looked back at him. He stayed until he was sure they were all safe inside the buildings. All the single mothers in the area stayed too, although not to watch their children go to school. Jack was by far the most attractive and capable bachelor in the area, although anyone who knew him also knew he devoted all his time and money to his daughters, and never on dates or drinks.

Still, they could dream.

Jack turned back to the road, stretching his legs as he prepared himself to run the 7 miles to his job. He couldn't afford a car, and Jack was never late. He was happy to run the route if it meant he could walk leisurely with his daughters to the school.

As he turned back, something caught his eye. A man was sitting in a small, inexpensive and nondescript car. He had a camera.

And he was taking pictures of the young girls filing into their buildings. Including Jack's own daughters.

When he had initially arrived in Rapture, his first hours were spent in heart pounding, fearful fighting. Then he met Sander Cohen, and for the first time, he killed in anger. And that anger had carried him the rest of the way through Rapture.

Now, that same anger slammed into him, like his first plasmid. Driving away any other emotion and thought, and filling him entirely. Before he even knew what he was doing, he could feel Incinerate coiling down his arm, an old friend ready to be used for more than lighting the fireplace in the winter. With a force of will, Jack deactivated the plasmid before it was noticed, and took deep breaths to soothe his anger, and restore his rational thought. After he had gathered himself, he made his way leisurely to the man in the car, greeting him with a cheerful wave. The man hastily stashed his flash camera under his seat, and then returned the wave.

"Lovely morning, isn't it?" Jack asked pleasantly. The man in the car bobbed his head, a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he noticed the lithe and powerful build of the man approaching his car.

"Oh, yes. Yes it is."

Jack cocked his head.

"Seeing your little one off?" He inquired.

"Oh, yes. They, uh, they grow up fast, don't they?" The man responded, a slight tremor. Those who targeted children were, at heart, cowards.

Jack nodded, offering the man an assuring smile. "That they do. I haven't seen you before. Is your little one a new kid, in kindergarten?"

The man nodded, confidence returning as Jack supplied him with an excuse. "Yes, yes indeed. First day, poor thing."

Jack nodded sympathetically. "I remember that." He was silent for a moment, before saying in a final manner, "Well, I've got to head out. Job and all. Hope your kid makes it through all right!"

The man held back a relieved smile as Jack said his farewell, offering an enthusiastic wave goodbye. "No problem. I'll see you around, then."

Jack walked away, his fake smile sliding off his face. It looked like he was going to have to call in sick for the first time ever.

This school didn't have a daycare.

* * *

The man, whose friends called him Sal, sat in a diner booth, enjoying his sunny side up eggs. Well, his friends WOULD call him Sal. If he had any. He smiled again as he dug in, excited to be home to develop the film from his camera. He'd gotten some good ones today. He loved the first day of school. The kids were always dressed up pretty.

He finished his food and paid his tab, whistling as he walked to the parking lot. It brought a pleased smile to his face as he once again congratulated himself of what he thought was his skillful deception of the attractive jock of a dad at the school.

Chump, He thought smugly. He'd never been attractive, and enjoyed hating attractive people in his mind.

His smile turned to a shocked gasp as he reached his car. The window was shattered, and the inside was a mess. The steering wheel and gear shift were practically melted, electrical burns lacing across his seats, and his camera lay in several pieces, all the film burned up. He spared several minutes to shout and swear and complain, before coming to grips with the fact that he had lost all his photos, and would have to walk all the way home. Eventually, he set off. In a considerably worse mood.

* * *

Sal was still walking.

He trudged alone on the small, abandoned road that was the way to his isolated, modest home. His hands shoved in his pockets, he cursed his bad luck, and the hooligans he imagined had destroyed his property, forcing him to make the long uncomfortable walk in the dark. It couldn't get much worse than this.

He was shaken from his self pity and angry mutterings by the cracking of twigs, in the dark forest outside of his field of vision. Sal stopped, casting his eyes out, scanning the dark places between the shadows of the trees. Night had fallen, and Sal could barely see. His heart rate rose, and he opened his mouth to call into the woods.

"Who's out there? Hello?" His voice trembled slightly. He waited, for a response, but none came. Minutes passed, as Sal remained frozen. Eventually, his fear bled away enough for him to continue walking, although his steps were significantly more careful, and he had traded his angry trudge with his head down, for cautiously glancing his head over his shoulder every few moments. Time passed, and Sal found himself relaxing. Perhaps he was just being jumpy, walking in the dark alone. He returned to mourning his camera, and the loss of all those photos.

Well, it was a good thing school lasted most of the year. He'd just have to save up for another camera.

* * *

Blessedly, he arrived home, his moment of panic and his fear of whatever he had heard moving about in the forest long forgotten. He unlocked his front door, stepping inside, and resolving to cook himself something warm. He tossed his jacket onto an already large heap of clothes piled sloppily on the floor. He grabbed a lukewarm beer from his broken fridge, cracking it open and taking several long gulps. It had been a hard day, and the alcohol soothed him. He stood like that for a moment, before setting down his beer with a sigh. He began to pile some logs into his fireplace, from the stack he kept next to it. After some grunts of effort, he managed to light it using a flint and steel, and some paper. He left the fire to grow, as he set about putting a pot of water on the stove to boil. By the time he had gotten a nice warm soup underway, and returned to rest in his arm chair by the fireplace, the flames were already blazing high, bathing him in warmth as he settled, his beer in his hand, and two thirds empty. He leaned back, resting his head against his chair and closing his eyes. He'd have to buy a new camera, and get repairs to his car. That would still cost a sizable amount of money, and he'd be trying to fix what had happened today financially for a long time to come. But, after his long walk, he was simply grateful to be home, resting by the light of the fire. The worst was over.

Suddenly, the light and warmth the were filling the space were doused, and the room plunged into darkness. Sal's eyes snapped open, and he leapt out of his chair at the sudden change and temperature. As he looked toward the fireplace, disbelief filled him. He blinked rapidly, and rubbed his eyes to make sure that he hadn't fallen asleep in his chair, and that this wasn't a dream. The fire in his hearth hadn't been extinguished, it had been frozen solid. The flames were still there, but they were solid ice. The entire fireplace looked like it had been flash frozen.

Sal came to the horrible realization that he was not, in fact, dreaming. He stumbled away from the fireplace, bumping into his chair and nearly falling over, the beer that had been clenched tightly in his fist dropping to the ground, and loudly shattering. As he righted himself, he looked toward the doorway. A figure, the dark shadowed outline of a man stood there. His left arm was covered in frost, and spikes of Ice jutted through his skin. As Sal watched with terrible fascination, the Ice disappeared, and the frost abated. For a brief moment, the arm was just a dark outline, like the rest of the body. Then, a blue glow began to shine, inside the arm and hands very veins. Arcs of deadly electricity began to flicker and dance on his skin. Sal's legs failed him, and he fell backwards onto his rear.

"Oh my God." His voice came out as a shocked whisper.

The man shook his shadowed face.

"No gods."

Hearing the iron voice of the shadowy figure snapped Sal out of his shock, plunging him back into terror. He kept no weapons in the house, but there was a hammer in the toolbox, under the sink. Sal choked a scream, and started to scramble for the sink. He got about halfway there, before a feeling like getting struck by lightning filled him. His screams were silent, as his entire body seized and convulsed.

* * *

Jack viewed the man on the ground, as he seized. Jack was accustomed to dealing with Splicers, who were so pumped full of Adam that Electro Bolt only stopped them for a few seconds. This man was taking it much worse, and Jack started to think that the man would simply die. But eventually, the seizing stopped, and the man gained enough control over his functions to start screaming again.

* * *

Sal's body came back under his control, eventually. After what felt like a lifetime, but was in reality only about a minute, he was able to start moving again. Sal began weakly crawling toward the sink, sobs of pain and fear tearing through him. He reached the cabinet under his sink, and spent a few moments trying to control his digits well enough to manipulate the handle, and open the cabinet. He knocked over his small toolbox, spilling his tools all over the floor. His hands scrambled for the handle of the hammer, and siezed it. Turning his body on the floor, he gave a desperate yell as he hurled the hammer at the figure, who had spent this entire time standing, and watching Sal struggle. Shockingly, the man made no move to dodge, and the hammer collided with his shoulder.

Sal wasn't really in good shape, but the throw was one of desperation, with every ounce of strength he could muster.

* * *

Jack winced as the hammer connected, but made no sound. Pain was a familiar enemy to him. And he made himself savor it, because he refused to walk out of here without a scratch. He couldn't let it be easy to him. It shouldn't be easy. Killing a man.

* * *

Sal groaned in despair as the man seemed unaffected by Sal's desperate throw. His hands scrabbled through the pike of spilled tools, searching for something, anything. The man took a step forward.

"No kings."

Tears rolled down Sal's face, and he screamed at the man.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?"

The man stood over Sal now. As Sal watched, the man stretched out his hand, and from the pile of tools, a wrench extricated itself, to fly into the man's grasp. He leaned down to grip Sal's shirt front, and crouch over him, raising the wrench high above his head, his face visible to Sal for the first time since Sal had spoken to him this morning. Sal's hands battered uselessly at Jack Ryan's iron grip, sobs and tears escaping him.

"Only man."

Sal almost died from the first blow. As the wrench crashed into his head, and Sal's mind began to quickly slip away, he wondered fully what in the hell the man was saying. Then as the wrench pulled away from Sal's now unrecognizable head for the last time, drenched in red with bits of meat and bone stuck to it, Sal stopped wondering.

* * *

Jack stood, breathing hard. He closed his eyes, calming himself, and letting the wrench fall from his fingers to thud against the floor. After he had gathered himself, he set the dry walls of the man's home ablaze, with a snap of his fingers. He exited through the main door, and watched from the front yard as the small, isolated house went up like a tinderbox. A man chooses. And Jack had chosen to kill this man. Because Jack would choose the daughters he loved, over anything, or any morality preaches by others. He turned, and began to walk home, pondering his actions. Doubting himself.

But when he got home, and as he checked on his daughters, sleeping soundly and safely, even after all the pains of their lives, he doubted himself no more. He had chosen this, and he did not regret it. His daughters were more important to him than his own life, or soul. Jack went to his room, and quietly undressed and got into bed, contemplating his discovery. He had always judged Andrew Ryan, his biological father, for the actions he took and the sins he committed in the name of his vision for Rapture. But as Jack began to drift to sleep, with his daughters in the rooms next to him, oblivious and safe, he realized something.

Maybe he finally understood Andrew Ryan, after all this time.

**I'm happy to hear your opinions and thoughts! As I said, this particular story is just a one shot. But, I'm not finished with the BioShock universe yet. Especially if people are interested.**


End file.
